Morticia the Model
by Lit95
Summary: Morticia becomes a hand model. As her success grows, Gomez begins to worry about their future. (Based on the 1960's tv show)
1. Chapter 1

"Mother, what's this do?"

"It makes my eyes more defined. It gives them a nice… Pop!"

Wednesday gave small giggle at her mother's facial expression.

"Now turn around, darling."

The little girl faced the mirror once more. Her mother sat behind her, gently combing her thick mane. She was never one for expressing sentiment, but she relished moments like these. Her eyes wistfully looked around Morticia's elegant vanity. There were only a handful of objects displayed and each were neatly put in place.

"How is little Lucifer, dear? Does he like his new aquarium?"

"Oh yes, but I sure don't. He doesn't ever want to come out and play!"

"Well, Lucifer's getting older. There are only so many times a lizard can be in a train wreck."

"But Pugsley put extra padding in the car, so the derailments won't hurt him… and if he flies out, Thing is there to catch him."

As she talked, she reached for a heart shaped perfume bottle. Gold encompassed the purple hue, which served as the heart. Sprouting from atop was a gold crown that connected to the soft black pump. "Did you get this from the trip too?" She turned to face her.

Morticia nodded.

"How romantic," she sighed. "Mother, what was your favorite part?"

While Morticia pondered the question the bedroom door flew open.

"You will never win!" Pugsley cried as he ran towards the window. He turned, placing his back to the window and sword to the room.

"Ah – ha! You're cornered now, Pugsley, old boy." Gomez bounded in like a flash. He wore a patch over one eye and a bandana around his forehead. His sword was inches from Pugsley's.

Morticia and Wednesday curiously watched the two.

"Do you surrender, or shall we deliver you to your doom?" Gomez's voice was nearly another's as he theatrically played his part. "What do you think, Commodore Fester? The plank?" Gomez glanced behind his shoulder. "Fester?" This time he turned around. The room grew still.

Slowly, footsteps and a huffing noise began to fill the silence. Uncle Fester walked in with an antique pistol by his side and stuffed toucan on his shoulder.

"Gomez, don't you think it's time to call it a night? Aren't you and Morticia tired from all that traveling? I sure am… and I didn't even go!" He said between breaths. He made his way to the ottoman at the foot of their bed and plopped down.

"But Uncle Fester, it's not even eleven o' clock yet."

"Now Pugsley," Morticia intervened, "I think Uncle Fester is right. It is rather late for the two of you."

"Aww!" Pugsley and Gomez groaned in unison.

"And you too, darling," Morticia stroked Wednesday's hair.

"Yes, mother," Wednesday obediently climbed off the chair, not forgetting to take her new decapitated doll with her.

"Goodnight dear," Morticia warmly hugged her and added a soft kiss on her forehead. "I wish you the sweetest of nightmares." She watched as Wednesday said her goodnights to the rest of the family, then turned her attention to Pugsley.

"Goodnight mother, father. Thanks for the sword."

Once everyone had left the room Morticia stood up, stretched, and started making her way to her closet.

"Tish!" Gomez ripped off his eye patch and bandana, and threw down his sword. She turned around. "When you stretch like that – it, it _shiver me timbers_."

"Monsieur boucanier?" She suppressed a laugh and reached for him, automatically offering her arm. He began with her hand but stopped at her shoulder.

"Oh Tish, you know what plane flights do to me."

"And now we are finally alone at last." She excitedly braced herself for the delicious force that was to come.

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a strong knock at the door.

"Yes," Gomez answered between arm kisses.

A bashful Lurch peeked through the door.

"It's alright Lurch, you may enter." Morticia smiled encouragingly.

"Gentleman here. To see you." Lurch kept his eyes downcast. "Downstairs."

"Tell him… I'm not taking… business calls… until… tomorrow." By the time Gomez finished his sentence, he was all the way to Morticia's other hand.

Lurch calmly replied, "visit is for Mrs. Addams."

Gomez lost all concentration and bolted upright. "What scoundrel wishes to see my wife at this time of night?!"

"Now, darling," Morticia said in an attempt to sooth him, though she was as equally perplexed.

"Urgent," was all Lurch replied.

"Send him away at once!" Gomez ordered.

"Lurch, offer the gentleman a refreshment and," Morticia glanced at her husband, who was already starting to pace. "Tell him Mr. Addams and I will be down shortly."

* * *

After a little coaxing from Morticia, the couple anxiously descended the stairs. A young man in his late twenties rushed to greet them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Addams," Lurch announced, "our visitor, Mr. Luffman."

"Cliff Luffman, agent for Diamond Talent Agency located in sunny Los Angeles." He duly put out his hand and offered a flashy grin.

Gomez skeptically shook it. "Gomez Addams. This is my **wife**, Mortica Addams." If the young man felt Gomez's grip tighten when he said "wife," he didn't act like it.

"_Morticia_," Cliff repeated, "what a beautiful name to accompany a beautiful woman." He carefully held the hand that was offered and kissed it.

"You flatter me," she spoke genuinely.

Gomez yawned loudly, then stretched in the most exaggerated way as he knew possible. "Mr. Luffman –"

"Oh please, call me Cliff."

"Cliff," he said tartly. "It's getting late. I think it'd be best if you got on with your purpose of being here."

"Gomez!"

"No no," Cliff chuckled, "it's far understandable Mrs. Addams. Mr. Addams I'll cut to the chase: I want your wife."

"Uh-huh, I see," Gomez looked as if he was in deep thought. He pulled a cigar from his pocket, took a long drag, and casually reached for the noose. Lurch appeared immediately.

"You rang?"

"The guillotine, Lurch. But take this man to the tar pit first."

"WAIT! P-p-please, Mr. Addams I was only joking. I want her as a hand model for commercials and, and such. Here – here's my card." His quivering hand reached into his jacket and pulled it out.

Gomez and Morticia scanned the card then looked at each other.

"What do you think," Gomez asked in a half whisper.

"Darling, he has a card..."

"You're right." His whole faced softened as he produced a warm grin. "Cliff, old sport, please sit down, sit down. Can we get you anything? A cigar, some brandy?"

"A warm cup of yak's milk, perhaps?" Morticia courteously cut in.

"No, thank you. I can't stay long. I have a date waiting for me but," he reached out and grabbed Morticia's hands, "Mrs. Addams I knew I wouldn't be able to rest until I found you. Your hands are exactly what I've been searching for."

"My hands?" She held them up to observe herself.

"Unmistakable!"

"But I don't understand; how exactly did you find me?"

"Nice, France."

"Morticia, don't we have a niece in France?"

"I don't believe so…" she thought a moment. "Ah! That's right! Thing's cousin, twice removed."

"You remember everything, cara mia." He took her by the waist and pulled her closer to his side. She gave a reciprocating smirk.

"I first saw you in Nice, France at a wedding reception a few days ago. A talent agent is never off duty. Mrs. Addams, might I say, you have the grace of a queen - perfect for a few advertisements and tv commercials!"

"Me on television? Oh, I don't think I could…"

"Only your hands. One of the studios is just a short drive from here. You'd do some photoshoots, maybe a commercial or two, that sort of thing." In a last-minute attempt of persuasion, he added, "think of it as your contribution to the world of art. You will be the masterpiece on display!"

There was a long moment's silence as Morticia contemplated the proposition. "It does sound intriguing… What do you think, Gomez?"

"You'd be the first Addams on the ole boob tube - for something other than the evening news."

"Wonderful!" Cliff grinned, "I'll bring the contracts first thing in the morning."


	2. Chapter 2

In less than a week the family was gathered around a newly bought television set. It was Gomez's idea to buy this one in color, an ode to the momentous occasion.

"Oh boy, our very own Morticia on television," Mama said between bites of popcorn.

"Mother," Wednesday asked, "how are you able to be here and there at the same time?"

"It's pre-recorded, darling. It was taped a couple days ago."

"Hey! You ate all the crickets!" Uncle Fester peered into Mama's popcorn bowl.

"Well get your own bowl," she scolded.

"I wish this mundane football game would go to commercial," grumbled Gomez.

"Here it comes!" Pugsley announced.

A table lamp covered the television screen and was accompanied by hyperbolic praises from an unknown voice. During the praises a familiar pair of hands caressed the lamp. With the pull of a dainty chain, it was turned on, off, and on again. By the end of the thirty second commercial, everyone was showering Morticia with compliments.

"A true star!" Gomez declared.

"When do you leave for Hollywood?" Mama asked.

"Aaphxsrkeeyii!" Cousin Itt exclaimed.

Morticia tried to wave everyone's extols away. "The director helped me greatly. It wasn't much."

"Nonsense! You're sensational, Tish! Sensational!"

"Thank you, dear," she bashfully beamed as they held each other's gaze.

"What'd they pay you?" Uncle Fester eagerly asked.

"Well, they haven't yet…"

"Money isn't everything, Fester." Then looking back at Morticia, Gomez added, "they haven't paid anything?"

"Not yet. I have some more photoshoots to do and such…" She could see Gomez's countenance begin to dwindle. "Don't worry, darling. I enjoy it, truly." She placed her hand on his knee and gave a reassuring smile.

"Cara mia," he replied as he sat up, "as long as you're happy, that's all that matters."

* * *

Gomez stared at the wreckage. Bits and pieces were everywhere, a cloud of smoke consumed the library, and half the track was on fire. It was his finest one yet. His chest heaved with pride.

"Did you see that, Tish!" He turned to an empty room. "Oh. No, of course you didn't, querida."

A photo of a hand wearing a ring caught his attention. He picked it up, quietly admiring it. It was from one of Morticia's earliest photoshoots and to Gomez's secret relief, it was her right hand they wanted to adorn with new jewels. He was studying it when Uncle Fester came rushing into the library.

"Fester," his face lit up, "what do you think of this one?" Uncle Fester paused just long enough to survey the debris.

"That's a real beaut, Gomez." Then getting back to business he said, "something's not right with Morticia's plant." He followed Gomez over to the hanging noose and kept talking as the house trembled. "It always tries to maim me, but it didn't do anything today – not a thing!"

"Cleopatra?"

"Yeah that's the one!"

"You rang?"

"Clean up my mess, will you Lurch. Hmm… Morticia hasn't said anything."

"That's because she's too busy for us," he smugly replied. "I knew this is how it would be. This is how it goes in all the books."

"You read?"

"Gomez, please," Uncle Fester held up his hand. "This is no time for jokes. It's been two months since Morticia's been modeling. This is getting out of control! Did you know she wouldn't even catch scorpions with me and the kids? She said she needed to protect her hands."

"We should be supportive of her, Uncle Fester," he stated matter-of-factly.

"But everyone knows that scorpion venom is good for the pores! Gomez, I'm saying this for your sake. Before you know it, she'll be off in Hollywood and you'll be Mr. Morticia Addams – with no Morticia!"

Gomez started laughing, to Fester's disappointment. "That imagination of yours."

"Sure, laugh away. But where was she the other night when you had to use Lurch as a tango partner?"

"She was working late. It wasn't her fault the camera crew was having technical difficulties." Gomez unconcernedly arranged the papers on his desk.

"Uh-huh. And what about last week when all you wanted was to take a casual romp in the swamp with her, but couldn't because that Mr. Loafer –"

"Luffman."

"Luffa, showed up. And what's with those gloves she's always wearing?"

"He showed up to let her know about a new commercial. As for the gloves - Shhh," Gomez moved near the door. "Do you hear something?"

"Probably Cousin Cackle playing in the quicksand."

"Gomez?" A faint feminine voice drifted towards them.

"It's Tish!" He jumped in jubilation and dashed downstairs. Against the dark of the night, and the dim room lighting, her pale face was virtually the only visible part of her.

"Oh darling," Morticia breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he was by her side. "I was beginning to wonder where everyone was."

"Wonder no more, querida." When he swooped down to kiss her hand his lips met velvet gloves. She nimbly tugged them off.

"My agent says I should protect my assets."

"Good thinking!"

"How'd you get home without Lurch?" Uncle Fester yelled over the banister.

"A gentleman offered. He was most kind." She gaily removed her lace scarf and let down her parasol. "Oh Gomez, you should've heard him! He believes I have a real future in hand modeling."

"Gentleman?" Gomez blinked.

Morticia nodded, picked up a flimsy pile of paper, then sat in her chair. Gomez promptly pulled his beside hers. "It sounds like you had a good day then."

"Superb," she smiled as she opened the loose book.

"What's that?" Gomez asked, trying to get a glimpse himself. Morticia looked at him; she was nearly squirming with excitement, which only resulted in greater curiosity.

"Darling, you'll never believe it. It's a script for a small B film. Here, look." She handed it to him.

"Night of the… Lobster?" He read aloud.

"They need a double for the leading lady."

Gomez thumbed through the pages. Small highlighted sections were scattered about. Most called for close-up shots of the leading lady's hands performing menial tasks. In one scene, she was writing a letter. Another had her pouring juice into a cup. A more gruesome scene involved her scooping a fish eye from its socket - with her bare finger. He inwardly shuttered at that one.

"Cliff said I'm nearly identical to her." Morticia held her head high. "The actress, that is. Auditions are Thursday."

Gomez slowly nodded. He was happy for her. He wanted to be happy for her. He should be happy for her. But for some dreadful reason, Uncle Fester's words were the only thoughts that ran through his mind. _With no Morticia_. He had been the supporting husband for the past couple months. He thought surely this was nothing more than a new adventure to be had. A simple thing out of boredom. But not a full-blown career, especially not Hollywood.

"Well, what do you think?" She bit her lip.

For one of the few times in Gomez Addams' life, he scrambled for words. "It's, it's, it's… it's a script."

"And all because of you. If you hadn't been so supportive, I would've never gotten this far." She stroked his cheek. While she was talking, Lurch surreptitiously entered the room. "Oh Lurch, I believe I'd like to take a bath. Would you get the taps started?" The butler growled then took his leave.

"Excellent idea, cara mia," Gomez helped her get up, but instead of letting her go he pressed her to him. "Always the creative one," he huskily whispered. "I'll get the torches!"

"Darling," with cat like reflexes she grabbed his arm before he tore away, "I'm terribly exhausted. Do you mind if I take this one alone?"

"Alone?" His heart sank. "No, course not. I uh, I think I'm a bit cramped anyway." He rubbed his lower back for effect. "I might go lay on the rack for a while. You enjoy your bath."

"Are you sure?" she cocked her head, looking him up and down. Worry was slightly etched on her face.

"Absolutely!"

"Darling." She gave him one last smile before parting ways. He stood at the foot of the stairs until she was out of view.

"So long… arrivederci… aloha… chou…" He was beginning to think Uncle Fester wasn't as imaginative as he had hoped.


	3. Chapter 3

Cousin Itt and Uncle Fester were in the playroom when the door squeaked opened. Gomez languished his way to the rack, where he removed his jacket, took out a cigar, and laid down.

"All because of you," he slowly repeated, eyes glued to the ceiling.

"Ouch!" Uncle Fester squealed. He tried moving his tightly lodged head, but it was no match for the crusher. "Morticia never did it that hard." His complaint evoked a slew of gibberish from Cousin Itt, who finally released Fester's head completely.

"Morticia!" Gomez called out like a lovelorn suitor. "I've got to get her back. Before it's too late! But how? How!" He draped the back of his hand over his forehead as he racked his brain.

"Something bothering you, Gomez?"

He looked up to find Uncle Fester and Cousin Itt standing over him. He heavily sighed.

"Uncle Fester, you were right."

Uncle Fester straightened up and puffed out his chest. "Course I am! This is Fester you're talking about." He stopped for a moment, furrowing his brow. "Right about what?"

"We're losing Tish," he groaned, "to the allure of fame."

Uncle Fester giggled at Gomez's dramatics. "That's the silliest thing I ever heard. Morticia, allured by fame?" He and Cousin Itt both started laughing.

"Why don't you just tell her you miss her?"

Gomez shot up.

"And ruin her happiness?" He violently shook his head. "I've seen how she lights up when she talks about modeling. She's absolutely divine. She adores it! I couldn't take that away from her."

"Why not Gomez? I sure miss her," Uncle Fester whined.

"Me too!" Mama, who was sporting an apron and toting a bucket, appeared at the doorway. "And so do the children."

"I guess we all do," Gomez said solemnly. "But she's got a script now and it's a big deal to her. You should've seen her earlier…"

Mama set the bucket down. "A script? For a movie?"

He mindlessly nodded.

Mama grinned ear to ear. "Say Gomez, you wonder if she could hook me up?"

"Mama! You in movies?" Gomez was shocked.

"Why not?! I took drama in high school – I was a real Bara in my day." She primped her hair and gave her best vamp impression.

"I'll see." He said hesitantly.

Mama gave a huff and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

"Theda Bara huh?" Uncle Fester commented. "You know, I was in high school theatre too. Everyone called me Nosferatu."

"That's terrible!"

"Not really. The audience would take one look at me, and they'd all be stunned. No one left when I was on stage. Though I personally felt I identified more with Valentino or Gable. You know, the suave type."

As Uncle Fester kept rambling, Gomez tuned him out; all thoughts reverted to Morticia. Suddenly he slapped the rack.

"Something's gotta be done! If Morticia gets this part, my marriage could be at stake!" He stood up and started pacing.

"ekesbx fdjcin?" Cousin Itt suggested.

Gomez shook his head. "Bigamy isn't my thing."

"If the part's all you're concerned about, why not sabotage her chance?"

Gomez came to a halt. "That's not a bad idea… Wait, what am I thinking?" He tried to shake the thought. "I couldn't do that." With one hand in his pocket, and the other holding a cigar, he continued his pacing.

Amidst his pacing, a knocking noise started to emit from a box. Three more knocks and Thing emerged with a newspaper in hand. Thing waved it around before finally capturing Gomez's attention.

"Yes, Thing?"

Thing handed the paper to him and pointed at the classifieds.

"What does it say, Gomez?" Uncle Fester and Cousin Itt huddled around them.

He put on his spectacles, cleared his throat, and began reading aloud. "Washer and dryer for sale. Like new. Will -"

Thing snatched the paper from him, disappeared, then reemerged with a pen. He laid the paper on the table and circled the miniscule ad, hidden amongst the rest.

"Wanted – young actress searching for employment. Years of experience in modeling and…" Gomez silently read the rest. "Thing, this is brilliant!" Thing gave a bow. "This is perfect, just perfect!"

"Did I miss something?"

"Fester," Gomez put his hand on his shoulder. "We don't have to sabotage Morticia's chance of getting the part. We'll find someone else to do it for us."

"Huh?"

"Just leave it to me. We'll have our Morticia back!" His newfound confidence restored his vigor. He grabbed his jacket, and the wrinkled paper, and headed for his office. He could hardly wait to begin his plan. It was sure to get her back. He just knew it!


	4. Chapter 4

"More coffee, sir?" Lurch peered into the empty cup.

"Don't mind if I do, Lurch." Gomez went for another bite of toast before turning to the finance page of yesterday's paper. Just as Lurch started to turn away, he added, "But Lurch, could you make it a little more bitter? Oh, and same for Mrs. Addams. She'll be down in a few minutes."

He slightly bowed, left to fetch it, and was back in break-neck speed.

Uncle Fester briskly strolled in behind him and took a seat next to Gomez. "So," he asked as he cracked a raw egg over his toast, "do we have our Morticia back?"

Gomez put down the paper. An immense grin was plastered on his face.

"Fester, not only do we have our Tish back, but I believe I found the next big star."

"She looks that good eh? Gee, I wonder if she's single…"

"Well I haven't actually seen her work yet, but she sounded promising and she's free for Thursday's audition. She said she'd send some copies from her portfolio right away."

Uncle Fester was about to reply, but Gomez abruptly jumped to his feet and averted his attention to the atrium's entrance.

"Good morning, darling." Morticia floated past them and over to Cleopatra. "How's my dear girl?" She soothingly stroked the plant's brittle leaves as she spoke. "Lurch, does she look a little under the weather to you?"

The dutiful butler groaned in response.

"I think so too. Why don't you give her some coffee? It might perk her up."

"Good morning, my siren." Gomez came up behind her, gently wrapping her in his arms and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning, dear. Breakfast certainly smells good."

"Hmm?"

She pointed to the breakfast table.

"Oh! Yes, yes." He chivalrously offered her a seat before returning to his own.

"You're up quite early, Uncle Fester," she casually remarked as she picked at her plate.

"I like to hear what the latest reports are and -" He stopped short when Gomez shot him a warning look. "And all…" he meekly trailed off.

For a moment, Morticia eyed the two but quickly shrugged any concerns away.

"Did you notice anything, Gomez?" She paused mid-drink, her delicate hands enfolded the cup.

"You're even more lovely than you were yesterday?"

"Mmm… no. But thank you darling." She couldn't resist stroking his warm cheek. "Try again."

He watched in a dream-like state as her hands left him. When he saw them hug the cup once more, the realization hit him.

"Morticia! No gloves?"

"Not a thread," she smiled. "It's my day off. And it's all yours, Bubala."

"Tish," his eyes suddenly found new life. He rushed over and knelt at her side. "That name. How it seems centuries since I've last heard it."

"I know darling, I know," she cooed, lovingly patting his head. "I do hope I can make it up to you." Then she slyly added, "tonight is a full moon, you know."

"You little minx," he smirked.

"Darling, there's something else I wanted to tell you. I've thought it over and -"

"Package, sir." Lurch stood in the archway, holding a small parcel. "Important." He handed it to Gomez.

Gomez stood up. All eyes were on him as he broke the seal and started to cautiously pull out the contents. A photograph of a woman in a scantily clad bathing suit was the first image he happened to conjure. He immediately shoved it back into the package before anyone else could see.

"Uh, put this on my desk, please Lurch." He hastily thrust the parcel onto him.

"Is something wrong?" Morticia asked, "It's nothing serious, I hope?"

"Just business matters." Gomez nervously tugged at his tie.

Morticia simply cocked her head. She curiously observed as Gomez, with slightly shaky hands, removed the cigar from his breast pocket and started puffing on it with unusual zest.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat. "Lurch, on the second thought I'll take that. I uh, I think it'd be best if the matter be squared away as soon as possible. I won't be long, querida."

He dashed upstairs and into his office. Making sure to shut the door, he sat at his desk and emptied the package. Photos, both colored and black & white, sprawled across the surface. Amongst the advertisement snippets, head shots and publicity stills was a roll of film labeled, "commercials." He reached for the film first.

"What's that?!"

"Yeeesh!" The film went flying, bounced off the edge of the desk, and rolled to Uncle Fester's feet.

"Uncle Fester, you're supposed to be with Morticia!"

"I am?"

Gomez sighed and started shuffling the photos around.

"Is that from the lady you called?" Uncle Fester picked up the film reel and scurried over to the desk, curious to see the mysterious woman. His eyes automatically went to the bathing suit photo.

"Gomez," he perplexedly started, "I thought she was supposed to be a hand model, or something?"

"She is, supposedly," he said as he skimmed over a pantyhose advertisement.

Uncle Fester dubiously raised an eyebrow. "I see an awful lot more than hands."

"So she's well rounded," he shrugged.

"In more ways than one."

Gomez chidingly glanced at him then swiftly began putting everything back. "Will you keep this in a safe place for me?" He sealed the package best as he could and handed it to him. "Just until Morticia doesn't get that part."

"That I can do!"


	5. Chapter 5

Gomez thundered down the steps, raced through the living room, and flew into the conservatory. "I'm back, querida mia, and look!" He held up a pair of spears. "The newest addition to our collection."

"Oh darling!" Morticia dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin before getting out of her seat. "How marvelous!"

"They were found in a remote village in the Amazon. An archeologist was being chased and next thing he knew, these flew right past his head." Gomez proudly smiled. "Quite a find, huh?"

"They are exquisite."

"Lurch has a few Tsetse flies ready to go. What do you say?"

"It has been a while since I've speared anything," she held the long weapon, her eyes gleaming with admiration. Then she glanced at her hands. With a change of heart, she gave it back to him. "I shouldn't, dear. I'm sorry. I need to be careful with my hands. Should anything happen, well… Perhaps a riveting game of chess instead?" She coyly wrapped her arm around his.

"Chess it is!" Gomez enthusiastically threw his spear across the room and into a set of bamboo wind chimes.

"You… chimed?"

"Lurch, Mrs. Addams and I would like to play chess. Would you mind setting it up in the living room?"

* * *

Once the game was set, Gomez and Morticia took their respective sides. It wasn't long until they fell into deep concentration. One only spoke if they felt they had an advantage or felt the need to warrant a compliment. The intensity enraptured them to a point where neither had heard Lurch announce their guest.

"Mr. Luffman," he announced in a louder tone. The couple finally tore their eyes from the game and each other.

"Cliff!" Morticia sprang to her feet. "How nice to see you. Is everything alright? I'm not supposed to be somewhere today, am I?"

"You're perfectly fine, Morticia." He said lightheartedly. "I normally wouldn't intrude on your personal day off, but I simply had to be the first to show you." He eagerly toggled his briefcase on his knee while he pulled out a magazine. "You made the back cover!"

He boastfully held it up. The advertisement filled the entire page. Morticia's hands couldn't be missed.

"Oh my," she said in her modest tone.

"You can keep this copy," he handed it to her. He gazed upon her like a gloating parent. "You should be very proud, Morticia. Your star is on the steady rise! Now, if you excuse me, I must run. Good day." He motioned an adieu toward Gomez before parting ways.

"Oh, Gomez," Morticia said after he left, "isn't it surreal?" Her eyes were closed as she clutched the magazine to her chest.

"Yes, very," was all he could muster.

"I think I'll put this in the safe, just until the children come home." She gleefully glided over to the portrait of a dressed-up giraffe and pulled it down, revealing the hidden the box. She opened the safe and went to lay down the magazine, when suddenly a parcel in the back caught her attention.

"Darling," she called out, "did you put this here?"

"Put what, my dear?" Gomez nonchalantly asked as he sat at the chess table, contemplating his next move.

"This parcel."

"Parcel...?" he muttered to himself. _The parcel!_ His heart nearly stopped.

"Wait!" he yelled as she started reaching for it. Gomez dropped his pawn and made a dash to her side. But it was too late. She had already started fishing out the first photo. He watched her face harden and her chest begin to heave.

"Gomez! What is this?" Her body was frigid; her eyes were daggers.

"I can explain," he tried taking the package, but she had a grip of steel. "Tish, really, truly – it's not what you think. She's supposed to be your replacement."

"My replacement?! WELL!" She scoffed.

"Hi all!" Uncle Fester's chirpy voice cut in, "what's happening?"

"No! That's not what I meant – please, let me explain."

"Explain later! I'm going to my room," her voice wavered, "and don't try following me!" With a sniffle, she abruptly turned on her heels and left. The parcel was carelessly dropped onto the ground.

"Well see you later, Gomez."

"Uncle Fester." Gomez caught him by the shirt collar before he could make his getaway. "Won't you sit down?" He motioned toward Morticia's empty chair.

Uncle Fester, too afraid to do anything else, reluctantly sat. Like a turtle, he kept his head lowered into his collar while Gomez circled him. The facetious grin on Gomez's face only added to the fear.

"Do you know how large this house is, Uncle Fester?" His voice was dangerously low. "I've had cousins I played hide and seek with as a child, that have never been found."

"You told me to put it in a safe spot!"

"But not **the** safe!"

Uncle Fester jumped up. "If you would've just told Morticia the truth, this wouldn't have happened!"

"Uncle Fester, you're! …Absolutely right," Gomez dropped his shoulders. "You're right. And now, who knows what she thinks of me." He fell into his chair. A feeling of misery and defeat swept over him.

"She probably thinks you're a sneaky, cowardice, two-timing liar." One glaring look from Gomez and Uncle Fester's smile instantly disappeared.


	6. Chapter 6

"Hello, father!"

Pugsley and Wednesday hung from the floor like bats. Each had their own school books in hand.

"Hello, children!" Gomez fell to the ground, summersaulted his way to an upright position, and sprang to his feet.

His vivacious actions were stark contrasts to the day's events. Gomez had spent the rest of the morning trying to lure Morticia out of her room, but his incessant knocks and desperate proclaims of ardor were to no avail. She simply would not budge. When she skipped lunch, he finally sulked his way to the living room, where he climbed the chandelier and stayed there.

"How was school?" he asked as he dusted off his jacket.

"I have a test tomorrow," Pugsley said with a scowl.

"Darlings!" Morticia hurried down the stairs to greet them. "I thought I heard a door slam." She warmly hugged both children without so much as looking at Gomez.

"Where are your gloves?" Wednesday curiously asked.

"Well," she reached down to caress the end of one of her braids, "mother had a day off today."

Wednesday's face lit up. "Does that mean we can play surgery on Grandmama? You don't have to use the scalpel."

"Mother can't do anything that will ruin her hands," Pugsley interrupted. "You know that, Wednesday."

"That's not true!"

"Now darlings..."

The weariness in Morticia's voice caught Gomez off guard. It was in a closer examination when he noticed the faint puffiness of her eyes and a hint of smudged mascara.

"Children, why don't you get washed for dinner." He gestured them to the stairs and waited until they were out of sight to say any more.

"Morticia," he somberly whispered, carefully bringing his arm around her waist. "My entire being burns with sorrow. Could you ever forgive me?" Just as he went to nuzzle his face in her neck, she broke away.

"Look at my pitiful roses. All those ghastly petals!" She choked back a tear while trying to fidget with the flowers laying on the table.

"Tish," he laid his hand over her unsteady one, finally getting her to look him in the eye. "It was a foolish thing to do, but I never intended to hurt you. She's nothing to me!"

"Those photos certainly didn't look like 'nothing' to me." She agitatedly picked at the roses and violently snipped off their heads. In the rush of things, she pricked her finger on one of the overgrown thorns.

"Querida" Gomez seized her hand, "you should be wearing your gloves. Here." He gently kissed the minuscule wound. He could feel her large eyes studying him.

"Gomez -" she softly started.

"Cara mia," he earnestly placed her hand over his heart, "you are the only mausoleum in the cemetery of my love."

Morticia absorbed his words carefully. Then her whole countenance slowly blossomed before him.

"Oh Gomez, darling!" She cupped his face with her free hand. "How could I be so obstinate?"

"Well I do have a certain allure to the opposite sex..."

"Indeed, bubala."

Her come-hither tone was all he needed. In one motion he swiftly picked her up and carried her up the staircase, bridal style.

* * *

"Darling, I've been thinking." Morticia leaned into the mirror as she re-applied her lipstick. "I think it's time to relinquish my modeling career." She turned to Gomez, who was standing by their bed fastening the final few buttons of his shirt. "And I've decided I'm not going to audition for the movie."

"But I thought you loved modeling?"

"Yes, but I realized how neglectful I've been lately."

"To the family?" Gomez worked on his tie.

"And you." She went to pick up his discarded jacket from the floor and helped him get into it. "I guess I got so wrapped up in it all… and then I saw those photos! I feared I drove you into the arms of another."

"Never," he spun around, "cara mia, never." He lightly kissed her forehead. "Not even death could rid you of me."

"Yes," she hissed in an eerie tone. "Nor you of me."

"Our waltz," he placed his hand on the small of her back, pressing her to him, "eternal."

"_Mon Cher_."

As they desirously gazed into each other's eyes the shrill shriek of a clock pierced their ears.

"Oh darling!" Morticia pulled back. "We've nearly missed dinner! Lurch will be furious."

"Lead the way, my dear." He stepped aside and automatically extended his arm for her. "But it'll be awfully hard for him to top that scrumptious appetizer."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Your reviews have been most kind and encouraging - thank you! I hope you have enjoyed the story. :-) **

* * *

It didn't take long for nightfall to appear. After Morticia made the announcement of her modeling resignation, the family decided to celebrate in Addams' fashion – a midnight, moonlight picnic followed by some much needed moonbathing. The entire clan was spread out on the front lawn. Wednesday and Pugsley were perched in a tree, seeing who could throw a rock into the neighbor's windows. Uncle Fester was working on his latest explosive contraption while Cousin Itt bounced on a pogo stick. Mama searched for ingredients for an ancient hex. And Morticia and Gomez reclined on their lounge chairs. The moon and stars were their roof tonight.

"Ah," Morticia serenely sighed, "this was a wonderful suggestion, darling." She put on her black sunglasses as she laid back and closed her eyes.

"Take it from me, Tish. There's nothing like a relaxing moonbath to cure over-taxation." Gomez, clad in his usual Victorian bathing suit, had just finished applying some homemade moon-burn remedy.

"How true."

"Phone call, Mr. Addams." Lurch materialized by his side.

"Who from?"

Lurch's eyes jumped between the two; his thoughts reflecting on the tumultuous day. He muttered a low groan.

"Lurch, anything you say to me, you can say to Mrs. Addams." Gomez affirmatively reached over to pat her hand.

"Very well, sir… Miss Everett. Model."

"Miss Everett, model?" Morticia slowly pulled her sunglasses down.

"Did a phone ring?" Uncle Fester strode up to Lurch.

"Miss Everett. Model."

"Oh goody!" He tittered. "Tell her I'll be right there."

"But call is for -" Lurch began, somewhat confused.

"I know. I used Gomez's name for practicality."

"Uncle Fester," Morticia sat up and removed her shades, "what on earth are you talking about?"

"Well, I figured a fine model and actress like that can't just be thrown away. Gomez may not need her anymore, but she still needs someone."

As if reading Morticia's mind, Gomez stepped in for explanations.

"She's the one I had contacted to take your place as a double… I may have led her to believe I was an agent."

"You mean -?"

"That's what the photos were for, and the roll of film. I… I planned on paying some people to get her a gig – your gig, to be precise." Gomez hung his head in shame. "It was a rotten thing to do, but I couldn't stand the thought of being without you."

"Oh Gomez!" She leaned towards him, "You would do all that for me?"

"And then some," he passionately replied.

"Darling," her face returned to its subdued state as she dragged out the word. By now the couple was practically sharing the same chair. They hadn't even noticed the absence of Uncle Fester and Lurch.

"I do wonder," Gomez stood up. "I've been thinking - since I am an attorney after all - about how we're going to get you out of any existing contracts."

"Already taken care of," Morticia airily stated. "Yes, Cliff was most understandable. Of course, I had already thought of someone who could take my remaining projects."

"Wonderful!" Gomez got in position to do a headstand. "Who did you recommend?"

"Well... I had asked them to come over tonight, but – ah! There she is. She must've been hiding."

Morticia's beach bag began to rumble. After a time of poking and prodding, it fell open. Slender fingers gracefully emerged. The dainty hand was instantly recognizable.

"Lady Fingers?" Gomez toppled over.

Lady Fingers gave a gracious wave of acknowledgment to them.

"Tish," he leaped to his feet, "you're brilliant!"

"It was Thing's idea, really."

"Leave it to Thing," Gomez chuckled. "With him you're always in good hands."


End file.
